


Reconfiguration

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [117]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: Jared feels numb all over. He doesn’t know if he wants the feeling to go away or not. He suspects whatever replaces it is going to feel worse.
Relationships: OMC/OMC
Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [117]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/849798
Comments: 64
Kudos: 337





	Reconfiguration

Jared’s going to the Bruins. They’re a good team. A playoff team. 

They’re on the other fucking side of the continent.

Jared’s been to Boston all of twice before, both times for games. Not long stays, right in the middle of roadies, and he can barely recall them, though he remembers how the games both went — loss, loss. The Oilers have already had their match-up with them this season, and vice versa, which probably means Jared won’t be in the same town as Bryce before the offseason, whenever that will be. He checks. Flames at Bruins, 3-2 overtime win for the Flames, Bruins at Flames, 4-1 win for the Bruins. 

So no Bryce, except through texts, calls, video chat. No Julius, except through the same, so: text. He’s on a playoff team, which should make him happy, but right now all it means is that he won’t see Bryce for longer. The Flames are on the bubble, a mere two points out of contention, so who knows, maybe they’ll match up against each other in the Finals.

Jared feels numb all over. He doesn’t know if he wants the feeling to go away or not. He suspects whatever replaces it is going to feel worse.

“Do you need help packing?” Julius asks quietly.

Jared doesn’t want to pack. Jared doesn’t want to move.

“Thank you,” he says, because whether he wants to or not, he needs to. He looks up the schedule. No game tonight — not that him and Jacobi would make it in time — but the Bruins have a game in Detroit tomorrow, and Jared suspects they’re going to need to be there when it happens. But who knows. He hasn’t gotten a call from Bruins management yet, and they’re a team with a lot of depth on the wings, so maybe he was just the bone thrown in with the sirloin steak that was Jacobi, maybe his future as a Bruin isn’t even with Boston, but Providence.

His phone buzzes. Jared doesn’t look at it, just goes to his bureau, dumps all of his t-shirts on the bed, figuring he’ll sort them later. He can’t even deal with Julius right now — though he also can’t bear to ask Julius to leave — he can’t deal with anything else. It’s too much. 

“Greg,” Julius says quietly.

Greg Jared needs to answer. Greg is travel plans, or further details, or saying it was a false fucking alarm — 

“You packing?” Greg asks.

“Yeah,” Jared says.

“I need you to stop,” Greg says. 

“Um,” Jared says. He doesn’t think you can be un-traded, despite that brief, insane flash of hope Greg was somehow wrong. 

“Or at least hold off for a bit,” Greg says. “Until we find out what weather you’re going to be seeing.”

“I can’t —” Jared says. “My brain’s not working right now, Greg, what are you trying to say?”

“Hold off packing,” Greg says. “I don’t think you’re done moving yet.”

“The Bruins are going to trade me?” Jared asks.

“I’m pretty sure they’re finalising it right now,” Greg says. “Sit tight, okay?”

“I—” Jared says. “Okay.”

“Trade?” Julius says when Jared hangs up.

“Apparently,” Jared says.

“Where?” Julius asks.

Jared gives him a helpless shrug.

“I’ll look for rumours,” Julius says, and while he does that, nose in his phone, Jared ferries clothes back to the bed to sort, keeps packing, because the same sort of clothes are going to be necessary wherever he’s going. Maybe not outerwear — Florida in winter is a far cry from like, Winnipeg — but wherever it is he’s going, he’ll still need socks and underwear, jeans and t-shirts, game day suits. 

It keeps him busy too, keeps him from his beeping phone, which he can’t face, only glancing at caller ID before screening calls from Bryce, his mom, his dad, Bryce again, avoiding Julius’ eye so he doesn’t have to see his expression whenever he ignores another call. It’s not fair, he knows it’s not fair to them, but he can’t right now, if he answers he’s going to be useless for the rest of the day, and he needs to keep packing, needs to be ready to go wherever it is they want him. Not Edmonton. Not Boston either, apparently. Twenty-eight teams to choose from, and he’d fucking love to hear it’s Calgary, but that’d never happen.

Greg’s the next name on his caller ID, and Jared snatches up his phone.

“What jersey am I wearing?” Jared asks. He hopes the Bruins equipment team didn’t get super gung-ho and already make a Matheson jersey.

“You’re going to laugh,” Greg says.

“Unless it’s Calgary, I’m not laughing,” Jared says.

“It’s not,” Greg says, and the spark of hope that’d been quietly simmering in Jared, one he was trying to pretend wasn’t there, fizzles out and dies.

“Then I’m not laughing,” Jared says.

“You’re a Canuck,” Greg says, and Jared proves himself a liar by the laugh barked out of him, because apparently him and Bryce swapped childhood teams. 

It’s funny, really. It’s also a thousand kilometres away from home instead of three hundred, and Jared could just get in his car and drive three hours if he’s got an off day, or Bryce could do the same thing, but that’s not feasible once three hours becomes ten. A short flight, at least, but that only helps during like, Christmas — which is past — and the All-Star break — also past. And the Canucks are a terrific team, which on the one hand is awesome, because of course Jared wants to play for a team that can win, a team that can win it _all_ , but it also means that the offseason’s suddenly a lot further away than it was yesterday. 

Elaine’s there. That’s a comfort. A big one, actually, not just that he knows someone there, loves someone there, but that talking to Elaine is like talking to Bryce in a lot of ways, gives Jared a similar sense of being just — settled when he’s around her. Between Elaine, and the fact he’s still in the same division as Bryce, as Julius, is going to be playing them a lot, living in the closest hockey city to home there is outside of Edmonton — there’s honestly no better team he could have gone to, with the obvious exception of the Flames.

It still fucking sucks.

“This isn’t like, trade two of three, is it?” Jared asks, because sucky or not, it’s the best case scenario. Or like, second best. “I’m not about to be shipped to, like, Florida or something?”

“No, they were desperate to get someone good on the right wing,” Greg says. “You’re a Canuck.”

“Okay,” Jared says. “Could be worse, right?”

“Could be worse,” Greg says. “I’m going to talk to head office, let you know what your travel plans are. Jared?”

“Yeah,” Jared says.

“Pack an umbrella,” Greg says, and Jared snorts.

“Where are you going?” Julius says when Jared hangs up after being told to stay near his phone. 

“Vancouver,” Jared says.

Julius wrinkles his nose, then smiles. It’s a weird combination of faces, but Jared gets it.

“Good team,” he says.

“Good team,” Jared says.

“Elaine is there,” Julius says.

“She is,” Jared says.

Julius leans over Jared’s suitcase to hug him, sudden and pointy and borderline painful — he’s skinny, but he’s strong, he wouldn’t have made it this far if he wasn’t, no matter how much talent he has — and Jared, after a short, slightly terrified pause, hugs him back.

“I will score ten goals the next time we play the Canucks,” Julius mumbles, and if Jared knows him at all, well — he probably won’t, their goalies are both way too good, but he’s damn well going to try, and he might make it halfway there.

“I’m going to miss you too,” Jared says, and it comes out too rough, a little choked. Dammit, this is the exact reason he wasn’t taking calls. He needs to pack. He needs to be ready to go wherever the Canucks need him. He needs to not be crying on his bed — fuck, it’s going to cost so much to ship his bed to Vancouver, and probably take forever, he shouldn’t even bother until he knows if he’s there for next season too — with a clinging, all-bone Finn attached to him. 

Fuck, who’s going to feed Julius when Jared leaves? The Oilers won’t just let their franchise player starve, will they?

“Please learn how to cook,” Jared begs.

“Fuck you,” Julius says into his shoulder, then lets go, Jared’s lungs suddenly getting airflow again, though his breathing’s still a little too shaky. “Packing,” he says. 

“Yeah,” Jared says. “Packing.”

His phone rings again, Bryce. Jared should probably take that. Jared needs to take that.

“I should—” Jared says. “Bryce.”

“I will pack your bathroom,” Julius says, and Jared’s about to protest he doesn’t have to, but then, it’s an offer of privacy, and if Julius is anything like Jared — and he is, in a lot of ways, the big ways — he’d much rather do something than nothing. 

“Thanks,” Jared says. The call’s rung through by the time Julius has grabbed Jared’s toiletries bag and let the door shut with a click behind him, so Jared calls back.

Bryce picks up on the first ring with a slightly breathless sounding “Hey.”

“Hi,” Jared says. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer before, I was just—” 

“I get it,” Bryce says, though he sounds hurt. Which Jared supposes makes sense. If the situation was reversed, he’d probably feel the same way. “Boston, huh. They’re — they’re a good team, they’re a playoff team.”

“That was like, a whole team ago,” Jared says, interrupting the glummest sounding set of compliments he’s ever heard. “My time as a Bruin has come and gone. Didn’t even get a jersey.”

“What’re you talking about?” Bryce says.

“They just traded me to the Nucks,” Jared says, and Bryce’s laugh, an incredulous bark, is probably the perfect mirror of Jared’s when Greg told him. 

“Good team,” Jared says. “Playoff team.”

Bryce’s laugh is bordering on hysterical at this point.

“Your mom’s there,” Jared says. 

“Yeah,” Bryce says, once the laugh’s settled down. “She’s probably going to make you stay at our house.”

That sounds nice, actually. Better than a hotel room for sure, and she’d probably be pretty helpful when it came time to look for an apartment. Which is something he’s going to have to do. Move his furniture, either to Vancouver or like, storage, and meet an entire new roster, and learn how to play on a new line, and —

“Hey,” Bryce says, interrupting what feels like something well on its way to a panic attack.

“Sorry,” Jared says. “Fuck, this was kind of why I didn’t answer. I need to like — I have so much to do, and I have like, no time to do it, and then I gotta go, and I have to pack, and like, what if I forget something, or—”

“Hey,” Bryce says. “Julius can do stuff for you. Your parents can come up this weekend, or I can come up on an off-day, and my mom’s going to be there for whatever you need in Vancouver, okay? You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“Yeah,” Jared says. “Sorry, I—”

“Is Julius there?” Bryce asks.

“He’s packing up my bathroom,” Jared says. “I think he wants to be like, helpful.”

“Yeah,” Bryce says. “Good. If you — let me know when you’re getting to Vancouver, mom will pick you up from the airport, okay?”

“She doesn’t have to,” Jared says. 

“When she finds out you’re coming I’m literally not going to be able to stop her,” Bryce says. 

Jared’s phone buzzes with a call waiting, and he checks it, presses his phone back to his ear.

“Is 604 Vancouver?” Jared asks.

“Yeah,” Bryce says. “Pick that up.”

“Okay,” Jared says.

“Just promise you’ll call me when you’re done,” Bryce says.

“Promise,” Jared says, mumbles ‘luv’u’, quick and elided, and has one breath to try to steady his voice, sound as professional as he can, before he answers the phone, with a “Jared speaking.”

“This is Brian Foster. Your new GM,” Foster adds, like Jared doesn’t know who he is. “Or, should I say your newest GM? It’s been a bit of a whirlwind day for you, huh?”

Jared manages a laugh.

“I’m betting that’s an understatement,” Foster says. “Just wanted to let you know we’re really looking forward to having you in a Nucks uniform. You’ve been a total pain in the ass to play against, so it’ll be nice to have you on our side.”

Jared laughs again, a little more genuine, though he imagines that’s more Julius than him. “Thank you, sir,” he says.

“Brian,” Foster says. “Just let us know if you need anything, okay? Think some of the boys are going to reach out, but don’t hesitate to ask me either. I played for half a dozen teams during my career, I know what you’re feeling right now. Anything you need, we’re going to help you out. We want you to be happy here.”

“Thank you,” Jared says.

“I won’t keep you, I’m sure you’ve got a hundred things to do,” Foster says. “You’re at home, right? Not on the road?”

“No,” Jared says. “I’m at home.” For however long it’s home.

“Good, it was the worst when I got traded on the road,” Foster says. “Didn’t see most of my shit until the offseason. I’m rambling. I do that. A lot. Just. Before I let you go — my job’s to make the best team I can, and I made it better today. I feel really good about how you’re going to fit on this roster, and I hope you do too.”

“Thank you,” Jared says, catches the ‘sir’ before he says it, checks in on Julius before he calls Bryce back. 

“Why do you have so much?” Julius asks plaintively, gesturing at Jared’s shower, and what is, Jared will admit, a fuckton of shampoos, conditioners, body washes, lotions, whatever the fuck.

“Ninety percent of that is Bryce’s,” Jared says. Possibly ninety-five.

“He doesn’t even _live_ here,” Julius says. 

And neither does Jared anymore. He thinks him and Julius have the same thought at the same exact moment. Julius sits down on the closed toilet seat, Jared leaning against the door frame. 

“This fucking sucks,” Julius says, sounding way too choked up for Jared’s comfort or sustained ability to not burst into tears, which he’s holding onto pretty tightly right now. He needs that to last him to Vancouver. That’s not being unrealistic. Just until Vancouver, because he suspects the first time he gets a hug from a Marcus he’s going to be bawling, and it’s Elaine he’s going to see before Bryce. Who even knows the next time he’ll see Bryce.

Fuck.

“You’re right,” Jared says, looking hard at the blurry shower curtain so he doesn’t have to look at Julius, potentially break the ‘no crying until Vancouver’ rule right then and there. “It really fucking does.”


End file.
